


A Nightmare

by calypsos_song



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Hades/Persephone myth turned on its head, Incubus AU no one asked for, Magical Realism, Midnight WIP ideas, Succubi & Incubi, incubus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:58:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calypsos_song/pseuds/calypsos_song
Summary: Westeros, circa 1890. Sansa has unwittingly opened up a portal into the underworld that unleashes supernatural powers and creatures into the world. Determined to close the portal for good, she finds out that only a demon can help her do that.AU set in Victorian-era Westeros. Incubus/succubus.





	1. The Portal

_**{Prelude}** _

Thunder furiously cracked through the heavens, splitting the darkening day in half. The sky bled, spilling drops of rain that were big enough to flood the sewers and drown the rats that scurried among the dirt and shit-filled streets of King's Landing. 

Howling wind accompanied the water that knocked insistently against the glass window panes of the royal palace. Only the moon was able to look through the rain-soaked windows of the castle, unable to warn the crown prince and other high-born children in the room of the dangerous game that they played.

The children sprawled cross-legged on the floor, forming a circle around an ancient book of spells. It lay open in the middle, the parchment so old that the pages looked about to crumble into dust. Joffrey uncrossed a leg. His slipper kicked the top edge of the book towards Sansa. As it slid across to her, particles of dust swirled up in the air as if the movement had caused the book to release some of its magic. 

"Do it girl," the crown prince snarled to the young duchess as he wrapped the lion pelt tighter around him. "Prove that you're worthy enough to be my queen one day. Say the words. Enchant us." 

Even in death, the head of the skinned lion around Joffrey's shoulders was ferocious enough to make Sansa feel like it was about to suddenly lunge and devour her between its teeth. The thunder roared as rivers of rain battered against the windows. With a dying flicker, the gas lights in the room switched off and the room plunged into darkness. The grandfather clock against the wall ticked like a steady heartbeat against the angry beat of the storm outside.

Tommen's wails pierced the children's ears. Sansa's body jolted backwards. She gasped, grabbing the hand of her best friend Jeyne Poole. The wind howled as flashes of lightning lit up the windows. Jeyne clutched Sansa closer to her as the two girls shivered with fear. Joffrey was the only one who laughed as the lights came back on. 

"You're scaring us Joffrey," Myrcella scolded as she hugged a crying Tommen to her chest. "Don't you care about your little brother?"

"Shut up! Bloody leave then if you two babies can't handle grown-up things," Joffrey dismissed, his hand waving absently to the door.

Myrcella stood up. She looked at Joffrey with an expression that resembled how their mother looked upon everyone who was not born a Lannister. Helping their little brother to his feet, she wrapped an arm protectively around him as she walked them to the door.

"I'm going to tell mum that you're playing with dark magic," she shouted behind her as they walked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them. 

Jeyne's brown eyes flickered between Sansa and Joffrey. Her soft voice quivered as she spoke.

"Can't we play another game? Sansa's upset," Jeyne correctly perceived. A shared childhood at Winterfell had made the two girls close enough to be sisters. Sansa regarded Jeyne as the sister that Arya never was or could be.

"You can't tell me what to do, wench," Joffrey spat.

"I'm fine, Jeyne," Sansa scoffed, rejecting her best friend's concern as she straightened her back and smiled at Joffrey. As much as Sansa was afraid, she wanted so badly to please the prince. When he looked at her, she wanted him to see a future queen. Her eyes flicked to the black glass eyes of the skinned lion curled around Joffrey's shoulders. 

_Be brave. Like the Lannister lions_ , she thought as she looked down at the open pages in the middle of the circle.  _It's just a book_ , she reassured herself.  _Old and creepy, but nothing different from something dusty in a library._

"Don't, Sansa." 

Jeyne placed her hand protectively on Sansa's shoulders and shook it earnestly. Fear had widened her large brown eyes. She stared at the book like it would bite the two girls.

"You remember the stories they used to tell us back in the North. The ones with-"

"Snarks and grumpkins?" Sansa snorted, her tone cruel as she pretended to be unaffected by the Northern superstitions she had grown up with. "Old Nan just told us those stories to get us to behave." 

"But the curse-"

"We're just playing a game Jeyne," she said, her words sharp enough to dominate her best friend into silence. Sansa's eyes silently begged her friend not to embarrass her before she looked back at Joffrey. 

"I'm getting bored with you two," Joffrey groaned. The contours of his face was cruel as he looked at Sansa. "You weak little girl. You could never stand at my side while I rule this country."

Rejection and unworthiness were emotions that Sansa did not know how to wear on her perfect face. She had spent her childhood around adults who built up her confidence with praises of her beauty and manners. Perfection was the only concept that Sansa aspired to.

Blushing with embarrassment, she bit her lip to stop a stream of tears. Her desire to please overcame her superstitious fear. The palms of her hands pressed against the cold wooden floor as Sansa scooted closer to the book. She moved warily, approaching the book like it was a sleeping beast that would wake up at any second.

Leaning over the open book, her long auburn hair brushed the pages as she glanced at the words. The yellowing parchment was stained with age, written in one of the ancient languages that was no longer spoken within the borders of Westeros. Her voice halted as she tried to read the strange words aloud.

"No!" 

Joffrey banged his fist on the floor. Frightened, she looked up from the book. The two girls watched as Joffrey stood up and walked to a cabinet. Sansa recoiled as she saw what the prince clasped in his hand. Clutching Jeyne, she felt that her friend's heart was beating as fast as her own.

"Only blood can feed the magic," Joffrey said, his voice as sharp as the knife that he held in his hand.

"Not just any blood." He looked at Sansa and smiled. "The blood of a  _virgin."_

"Let's leave," Jeyne mumbled between a rush of tears. Her hands tugged the folds of Sansa's dress with a force strong enough to tear the delicate lace.

"Please don't make me do anything he says, Sansa, please." 

 

"Shut up," Joffrey snapped. "You don't have royal blood. Only the blood of a virgin princess can make this work. At least, that's what the witch said. Don't worry, we'll try your inferior blood if the gods aren't satisfied with hers." 

Jeyne's body shivered, her silent cries transformed into sobs. Fear had stiffened Sansa's body that she couldn't move. Her heart's desire to please the king battled with her mind's warning to leave. 

"We only need a little bit of blood," he said to Sansa. "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face." 

Sansa couldn't take her eyes off the knife in his hand. The polished steel seemed to wink at her as the light reflected against its smooth surface. Unlike Arya, she had never had a twisted fascination with weapons.

"Give me your hand," he commanded. He held out his hand and pointed the tip of the knife at his palm. "Do it or I'll tell my mother that you cut me." 

"No!" 

Sansa held out her palm, bowing her head in defeat as she silently released a stream of tears. Jeyne clapped a hand over her mouth. Sansa trembled and nodded her head when the girls made eye contact.

"Don't hurt me," she said quietly. Her head looked away, refusing to look at the knife. But when Joffrey suddenly grasped her hand and wrenched it open, she could not help but watch as he brought the knife across her palm. 

She gasped as the sharp point of the knife dug into her palm. It would have been more painless to make a quick cut, but Joffrey maneuvered the knife across her hand like a surgeon marking a precise incision. Sansa cried out in pain. She tried to jerk her hand away, but Joffrey held onto her with an iron grip that was surprising for a boy of his size. His eyes rounded in fascination as he moved the knife to follow one of the wrinkled lines that ran across Sansa's palm.

Blood gushed from the wound, running down her palm and staining the cuff of her white lace dress. She winced as Joffrey clasped their palms together. When his hand pressed against her wound, trickles of blood ran down both of their forearms. Sansa didn't know which hurt her more, the cut that he had inflicted on her or the pleasure that shown on Joffrey's face as he smiled at her pain.

"Now. Read." 

Droplets of her blood stained the pages of the old book. As she read the incantation aloud, Sansa's voice bumped and halted over the strange words. As much as she didn't know how to pronounce them, the forgotten language transformed Sansa's voice into something that sounded not just foreign, but of another world. The words came out like deep hisses as her voice slithered over the words. 

_Who is this,_ Sansa thought fearfully, not recognizing the sound of her own voice. When she looked at Jeyne, her best friend of many years stared at her like she had been transformed into a monster. Uncomfortable, her eyes switched to Joffrey. His laugh had a cruel tinge. She couldn't tell if she imagined it, but she had never noticed before that his white teeth looked as sharp as fangs.

Sansa looked up from the book as she finished the spell. Her face paled as her widened eyes darted around the room. The spell had sounded sinister even though she did not understand what sort of magic it was supposed to reveal. At any second, some creature would lunge out of her Northern childhood nightmares. 

Nothing. 

Fresh claps of thunder, rain water and strong winds pounded against the windows. The clock kept its mechanical tick. Joffrey groaned with disappointment as he released Sansa's hand. 

"I thought it would work. That witch lied to me. Lying to the future king! I should have her shot for that. Treason." 

He looked at Sansa. She stared at her hand, frozen into shock. The girl looked like she could faint at any second. Jeyne had stood up and walked around the room to try to find a handkerchief to stop the bleeding. 

"At least I know that this knife is sharp. I found it lying around with that old book. At least we know that magic doesn't exist. Blast! Would have been fun if that spell had work-"

The lights switched off and the windows flew open. Rain drenched the three children as the wind howled into the room. The pages of the book flipped by quickly before it slammed itself shut. 

Sansa finally fainted when she saw Joffrey's dead lion pelt open its mouth and roar.


	2. Moonlight Sonata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a dark chapter. Warnings for dubious-consent-incubus-possession. Sansa will grow to be less helpless.
> 
> Baelish isn't here, but needed to set-up this story. It didn't feel right to introduce him in this chapter.

Monsters ripped apart Sansa's dreams and spat out nightmares.  _Her_  voice had breathed life into Old Nan's horrible stories. She dreamed that she was in a Northern forest, running away from the villains of those stories. The dark trees were afire with moonlight. Her long red hair flapped behind her in the wind, shining like a trail of blood for the creatures that hunted after her. 

A pack of sphinxes with Lannister faces raked their claws across her mind.  _No,_  she cried out as she ran from the lions and scampered among the trees. A sphinx with Joffrey's face snapped at her heels. Grabbing into her hands all the guilt she felt inside of her, she threw her feelings like a javelin towards the crown prince. 

_Joffrey. Yes. It's Joffrey's fault. He made me do it. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for him._  

She tripped. The pack of sphinxes encircled her. Just as Joffrey moved in for the kill, Sansa felt a darkness slowly growing inside of herself that was dying to get out.

Her eyes wrenched open. Terrified, her chest heaved as she frantically patted her body. The room was warm, but she shivered as she looked around cautiously. No sphinxes. No forest. No chase. Realizing where she was, she sank into the soft sheets and calmly exhaled with relief.

Someone had tucked the two girls safely into Sansa's chambers after she had lost consciousness. Jeyne sleepily groaned beside her and turned away, her arms wrapped protectively around a throw pillow. Sansa threw off her blankets and sprang out of bed. 

Her feet felt like heavy paws as she strode barefoot to the mirrored dresser. Night still crept outside the windows. The full fury of the storm had passed, but rain trickled down the large windows. On the dresser, lemon-scented candles dripped wax as the small flames illuminated the dark room. 

Fear and lack of sleep had haunted her eyes. In the sparse candlelight, her bright blue eyes looked like dark onyx.  _Demon eyes,_  she thought to herself as she broke eye-contact with her reflection and inspected her body. Turning to the side, she pulled up the long sleeves of her nightgown. Her skin felt tender even though no bruises painted her arms. 

Every muscle in her body ached as if her nightmare of running away from Lannister sphinxes had been real. Stretching her arms, she turned and looked back at Jeyne on the bed. Jeyne, ever loyal, had surprisingly cried more than Sansa. Even standing at a distance from the sleeping body of her friend, Sansa could almost taste the salty tears that had dried on Jeyne's face. 

The tourniquet around Sansa's hand was stained dark red. Setting the candle down beside her, she unwrapped the damp cloth and poured water from the jug into the porcelain wash basin. Her nose wrinkled. The dried blood smelled like the flinty iron that It was a smell that her father, brothers, and even Arya were more accustomed to. The cold water stung as she gently washed her hand. The wound would need stitches, she grimaced. Gently, she took a fresh piece of linen and started to re-wrap the bandage.

Her hand paused. Every sense in her body tensed as if she was in the presence of a predator. She turned her head sharply and  looked behind her. Jeyne slept like she had been bewitched under a deep spell. Her gentle snores fluttered through the room. 

For the first time that night, Sansa smiled. Even with all the terror the two had endured a couple of hours ago, her best friend had managed to find some peace. Trying to forget the earlier part of the evening, Sansa shook her head and turned back to her task, convinced that the night's events had caused her mind to play tricks on her. 

A soft thud behind Sansa suddenly jerked her body still. Moans croaked from the bed and echoed through the room. Sansa frantically rushed to her friend's side, almost tripping over the blankets that Jeyne had thrown off the bed. Jeyne's eyes were still closed as she moved her head from right to left, her dark hair tangling over her face. 

The girl's back practically arched off the bed as her hands ran up and down her torso, bunching the white cotton of her shift between her tight fists. Desperately, Sansa placed her hands on her friend's shoulders and tried to shake her awake. 

"Jeyne," she shook her shoulders gently. Sansa's shakes became more forceful when her friend remained unresponsive.

"Jeyne.  _Jeyne_!" 

Sansa panicked. Letting go of her friend, she ran to the door and grabbed the knob. The door was locked from the outside. Desperately, she screamed and banged as hard as she could against the wooden door. It did not budge. Crying, she collapsed against the door. Sansa's wails clashed with the animal-like groans of her best friend. Sweet Jeyne, who had loyally stood up for her best friend against the future king, was in trouble and Sansa was powerless to help. 

Pretty, soft-spoken Jeyne grunted and panted with a ferocity that Sansa had never seen in her before. Jeyne had arched her back completely off the bed covers, her spine unnaturally bent so that her torso was at a right angle to her legs. Both her arms were raised over her head as she held onto the top of the bed's mahogany headboard. Unseen hands moved the white cotton shift up over her chest, exposing her pale body. 

The slivers of moonlight that came through the curtains made it look like the moon had raked its white claws over Jeyne's naked body. Her eyes were still closed when she spread her legs wide and started thrusting against the bed. It was too horrible for Sansa to look away. 

Jeyne rocked violently against the bed, looking and sounding to Sansa like she was in terrible pain. But when Jeyne's scent filled Sansa's nostrils...it was confusing in how delightfully terrible the smell made her feel. The scent that came off Jeyne's body was warm, inviting,  _primal._ Sansa's eyes fluttered before a horrible guilt provoked a fresh flood of tears. 

Sansa screamed again, hoping that a passing servant would hear. Her eyes closed in the hope that when she opened them again, she would see that it was another one of her nightmares.

_It's all my fault. This happened because of me. Oh, Jeyne. I'm so sorry._

_It's not real,_  she thought even as she watched her friend possessed by a sinister force on the bed. Images of lions with Joffrey's face roared through her mind. A darker voice spoke within her.

_At least it's her and not you._

Jeyne cried out like she was about to take her last breath before death. The bed groaned as Jeyne's body fell against the sheets. For a moment, the only thing Sansa could hear were her own quick breaths. Her movements were slow and controlled with caution as she stood up and walked to the bed.

Other than the fact that Jeyne was naked and her brown wavy hair tangled over her face, she looked to be peacefully asleep. Sansa pressed a hand to Jeyne's forehead. Her skin felt like the warm beginnings of a fever. Sansa sighed relieved that her friend felt alive. 

Just as she was about to pick up the fallen blankets and cover her friend, Jeyne's eyes snapped open. Her brown eyes were completely black. It looked like her eyes had been dug out to be two bottomless black graves. 

"Sansa," a seductively deep voice that didn't belong to Jeyne cooed as she sat up in the middle of the bed.

"Mother! Come play with us, by the river. Master is wai-ting."

Sansa's long legs tripped over the bed sheets on the floor as she jumped away. She didn't dare look behind her as she lunged towards the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang!

Sansa pounded her fists against the door like if she pounded against it hard enough, she would break through this nightmare and wake up in her bed. Her palm stung and burned as the force broke the thin scabbing of the knife wound. A wet, clammy feeling coated the fingers of her cut hand as she felt a new gush of blood. The salt of her tears settled on her lips and parched her throat as she cried for her parents, for peace, for the moment when she could realize that the whole evening had been a bad dream.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she thought she could feel fingers gently sifting through her long hair. She turned sharply around, her jaw trembling. 

The disheveled bed was empty. 

"Jeyne?"

Sansa rushed to the bed, turning over and ruffling through the sheets.

"Jeyne?!?"

A chambermaid burst through the door, her look of annoyance quickly changing into shocked concern as Sansa bolted into the maid's arms and sobbed.

Jeyne had disappeared into a nightmare.


End file.
